He made his way to the protected natural harbour and paused to observe the dinghy. It was in the same place as last time, but the sail was not furled round the mast, it was flapping gently in the slight breeze. The nets were hanging as before, but as he approached he could smell fish. There were the remains of cod and a few flounders in the water next to the boat He was surprised that the gulls had not already been there and eaten the lot. He walked on over the slippery rocks, slipped and cut his hand on a sharp stone. He had a handkerchief in one of his pockets, Kristina Tacker had embroidered his initials into one corner. He pressed it against his hand until the bleeding had stopped.
The door of the grey cottage was shut. Smoke was coming out of the chimney. He sat behind some large rocks and let his telescope glide over the building, the door, the walls, the window. The only moving thing was the smoke. He waited. Suddenly a black cat with a white nose appeared round one corner of the cottage. It paused and looked towards where he was sitting, one front paw poised. He held his breath. The cat moved on again and vanished into some bushes. The door opened. Sara Fredrika came out. She lifted up her skirt and squatted down. He had a glimpse of her white legs. He hesitated for a moment, then grasped the telescope and aimed it at her. Just as she stood up she looked straight at him. He jerked the telescope away and closed his eyes. She walked along the path towards the inlet where the sailing dinghy was moored, and disappeared behind an outcrop of rocks.
He stood up and half ran to the highest point of the skerry, where he could see down into the inlet. There was the creaking sound of an oar, some squeaking from a rowlock, and then he saw the boat moving away from land. She rowed with good, strong strokes, and the sail was hanging loose, flapping as if enjoying its freedom. He could see through the telescope that she had tucked her skirt above her knees, and that there were nets lying on the stern thwart. She emerged from the inlet but did not follow the line of the coast. Instead she headed for the inner archipelago where the nearest landmark was a group of bare rocks sticking up out of the water.
She tossed a cork float over the side and as the dinghy glided downwind at a fair pace she let the net go. The breeze was easterly, barely enough to cause ripples. He estimated the net to be forty-two metres long, and she quickly adjusted the flow whenever it threatened to become tangled. She knew what she was doing and wasted no time. Her blonde hair kept falling over her face, she kept blowing it away, shaking her head, and eventually hung on to a long strand with her teeth to keep it out of her way.
He lowered the telescope. Odd that she was out in the boat on her own. Was her husband ill? Was he in bed at the cottage, behind the closed door?
He made up his mind on the spot. It would be some time before she finished laying out the nets and came back to the skerry.
He walked down to the cottage. The door was still closed and there was no sign of the cat. He approached cautiously and peered in through the window. It was quite dark inside and difficult to see anything. A fire glowed in the hearth. Suddenly it flared up. There was only one room, a bed, a table and a chair inside the rough walls. He could not see anybody in there. He tried the door, knocked gently, then opened it. The room was empty. No sign of her husband. No boots, no overcoat, no pipe on the table, no shotgun on the wall. She lived there alone.
There was no husband. Sara Fredrika lived all alone on Halsskär.
He thought he heard the dinghy scraping against some stones in the inlet and hurried back to his hiding place behind the rocks. She soon appeared, walking towards the cottage. She glanced up at the sky then went inside.
The fog was lifting when he returned to the ship. He rowed so fast that his clothes were sticking to his body. Why was he in such a hurry?
Was he running away from something, or towards something?
Chapter 45
Lieutenant Jakobsson was standing by the rail, cleaning his pipe.
He smiled.
‘You get up early.’
‘I hope I didn’t wake you?’
‘If I manage to sleep, I dream I’m awake. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m awake or asleep. But when I come out on deck it’s the real world, and I saw that one of the tenders was missing and they said you had rowed off into the fog.’
‘I need some exercise. The work in the boats isn’t enough.’
He climbed up on deck and headed for the mess and breakfast. He had spent too much time on Halsskär. Work would be late in starting today.
Jakobsson followed him.
‘Maybe I should accompany you,’ he said, after lighting his pipe. ‘Maybe you’ve discovered something?’
For a moment Tobiasson-Svartman thought that Jakobsson knew. Then he understood that it was an innocent question.
‘There’s nothing there. You can’t even get ashore. But I enjoy rowing.’
‘It’s not something I try to do, not with my hand.’
Tobiasson-Svartman drained his cup of coffee then stood up, went back on deck and climbed down into his launch.
Sub-Lieutenant Welander gave him a clumsy salute. His launch had already cast off.
The rating Tobiasson-Svartman had struck in the face the day before had a swollen lip, but there was no snot hanging from his nostril. He had changed places and now had the oar furthest from the stern thwart It would be harder for Tobiasson-Svartman to reach him there, should he have another fit of rage.
Chapter 46
Late that afternoon the Svea appeared on the horizon.
They stopped their work immediately. Tobiasson-Svartman had written up his notes by as early as six o’clock.
He made his way over the gangway that had been set up between the two vessels. Anders Höckert welcomed him aboard. While they were on their way to Captain Rake, he politely asked after Lieutenant Sundfeldt and Artillery Captain von Sidenbahn.
‘Von Sidenbahn has done his stint and is back ashore,’ Höckert said. ‘That’s where he prefers to be. He was damned annoyed, having to live on a moving floor. Sundfeldt is asleep — he was on bridge watch yesterday evening. He has an amazing ability to sleep, that man. Some of those who choose a seafaring life dream about being rocked to a sound night’s sleep by their ship. I have a theory that says they are really longing for their mothers. So how’s the work going?’
‘Well.’
Höckert paused and eyed him up and down.
‘Well? Neither more nor less? Just “well”?’
‘Some things go brilliantly. Other days cause a few problems. Let’s say, we’re making progress.’
Höckert knocked on the door and opened it before Rake had a chance to respond. Then he stepped aside and vanished down a companionway.
Rake was waiting for him, his jacket unbuttoned.
He held a letter in his hand.
Chapter 47
He saw right away that it was from Kristina Tacker.
The handwriting was unmistakable, with marked, fancy flourishes on the capital letters. He would have preferred to leave Rake immediately and return to his cabin to read the letter.
Previously he had been worried because she had not written. Now that had changed and he was anxious to know what the letter said.
Rake picked up the brandy bottle. Tobiasson-Svartman noticed that he was wearing a black armband on his left arm.
Rake saw what he was looking at.